“No use f-fussin’ about it now. We’re here!”
That was just like Mark, too. He never worried about what might have happened, but always got to work fixing up what had happened.
We took everything out of the canoe and turned the canoe bottom side up. From there on I wasn’t much good. Mark was the fellow that fixed it. He pounded and whittled and fussed around till it began to get dark.
“Wish we’d b-brought a lantern,” says he.
“So do I,” says I. “I hain’t in love with campin’ out here with no light.”
“I mean to f-f-fix the canoe.”
“Can’t finish it to-night now,” I says. “Better leave it and come look for a place to camp. It don’t look to me as if there was anything but swamp for miles.”
“We’ll have to m-m-make a place to camp,” says he.
“How?” I asked him. “Up in a tree?”
“We might do that,” says he, “if it was n-necessary, but it ain’t.”